Is This Enough?
by blackxjack
Summary: Carol and Daryl. Is love enough for the both of them?
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** My friend and I decided to collaborate and make a Caryl story. Hope you enjoy! She writes in the POV of Daryl, nothing written as Daryl is mine. It's all hers. :3

**Disclaimer; **We don't own The Walking Dead, nor do we make money off of this.

"Fuckin' horse." The hunter mumbled under his breath as he trudged along the path back towards the barn, a hand resting over the wound created by the arrow in his side to hold the tied sleeve there while he let his other arm dangle at his side uselessly. In his free hand he held his buck knife, ready to swing at any stray walkers that may cross his path. In this world you could never let your guard down, no matter how hurt or exhausted you may be from exertion and dehydration. At this point along the way he was practically walker bait. It took everything in him to continue dragging his ass all the way back toward the opening of the georgian woods and step out into the blazing sun that caused him to squint and curl his lips as he let his eyes observe the scene of the farm before him. The farm seemed to be miles ahead and this thought only dragged a grunt from past the Dixon's lips.

Daryl continued to fumble forwards, head inclined toward the grass he trudged over as he approached the farm. It didn't take long for anyone to notice his presence though and he peered up through thick lashes as he heard running foot steps approach him. The exhausted hunter came to a hault, his shoulders hunched, his head and side throbbing and his throat scratching from lack of water, to lift his head and look over the bunch before him, noticing them lowering their weapons just as he breathed out a few words. His eyes on Rick as he spoke, directing it towards him, since the ex sherif was in fact pointing a gun at his head. "That's the third time yer pointin' that thing at my head. Ya gonna pull the trigger or what?" Not much else was said after that, seeing as how he had been knocked on his ass by the force of a grazing bullet. That only added onto the pounding in his head. Everything after being hauled up from the ground became fuzzy, "I was only kidding.." He slurred as he lost consciousness.

When he came back to awareness he vaugely remembered Patricia's voice and when they had noticed him stirring she had handed him something to hold against the shallow wound on the side of his temple as Hershel worked on sewing up the wound in his side. While the man worked, Daryl listened to the interaction between Hershel and Rick, whom sat in a chair on the other side of the bed. While Daryl endured the uncomfortable feeling of the pinch and pull of the thread and needle, he answered questions and explained to them the extent of his search for Sophia. After a little while of answering and explaining while being patched up, he was told to rest and was given something for the pain; which he reluctantly took.

The hunter faded in and out and for every time he faded he awoke with a bothersome thought that plagued him. First it was about Sophia and the fact that he was rendered useless momentarily, even if he wouldn't admit it. Then there was the halucination of his older brother taunting him. The very halucination that almost got him killed by those stray walkers. Something that did indeed scare him and he'd never admit that to himself either. He was a Dixon and Dixon's weren't scared of shit. That was why his pa and Merle treated him the way they did when he was a kid. Daryl was considered a pussy in their eyes and he assumed he'd always be that same kid in Merle's eyes. These thoughts plagued him and only caused his temple to ache more, bringing a sigh past his lips as he settled into the pillows and blankets upon the mattress, which he gladly let swallow him and pull him back down into a light state of sleep.

The next time he awoke he wasn't sure what had roused him, but he rubbed his eyes and leaned further into the pillow with a deep sigh, a sigh of comfort. Shit, even though he wanted to be back in his tent in his own solitude where no one could just waltz in and disturb him, he hated to admit that leaving this bed didn't even cross his mind at this point. This was the most comfortable he had been since the CDC. As Daryl let the comfort consume him, he trailed his fingers over the soft fabric of the blanket he kept draped over half of himself as he let his mind wander. Daryl never did this, so why was he doing it now? What the hell did that geezer give to him to take? All he knew was that he felt blissfully comfortable and a bit more rested and less in pain. As he let his mind wander he listened to the sounds of the other's going about their business in the house, listening to the familiar foot steps of Rick, T-Dog, Glenn and another pair, since he was still memorizing the way some of them walked. As silly as it sounded, these were the kind of things he did. Helpful in his own eyes. While he listened he shifted slightly, carefully and when he brought his hand up to rest under his cheek on the pillow did he finally realize he felt clean, like he had bathed. Now it dawned on him; Who the fuck saw him in an indecent state?


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** My friend and I decided to collaborate and make a Caryl story. Hope you enjoy! She writes in the POV of Daryl, nothing written as Daryl is mine. It's all hers. :3

**Disclaimer; **We don't own The Walking Dead, nor do we make money off of this.

Carol's bony, almost delicate hands worked at the meat in front of her. She was currently making dinner, for everyone in the camp. Lori was off, who knew where. It seemed that the women was never around when you needed her. Carol's bright blue hues rolled slightly, then feeling guilty she decided to push the idea of Lori out of her head altogether. Coming up behind her, the woman in question asked her if she needed any help. A sweet smile was her answer, and a nod. "Sure, honey. Can you start chopping the tomatoes? And maybe rustle up some canned beans and crackers for sides. We're having burgers tonight." She smiled at the word burgers. Never again did she think she would have the delicious food again. Thanks to Hershel's farm, and his cattle, they were able to afford this delicacy.

She smiled down at the meat, while she ground it up then started shaping them into patties. The gun shot could be heard all around the farm. A small yelp fell from her lips, and she quickly turned around. A gun shot could literally mean anything nowadays. Either they shot down a walker, Carl could have shot off a gun on accident, or worse... someone could have been shot. She took a deep breath, calming herself. She ruled out walker, because Andrea had told her that they were trying to kill them quietly, and save ammo. Instead of standing there worrying, she looked at Lori whose face mimicked her own. Worry.

She nodded towards Lori, and they both set down what they were working on. Carol wiped her hands on her shirt, and followed Lori towards the door. Before they even made it towards the door, Rick, Shane, and Andrea burst through the door with a worried looking Dale following. The bundle they held between them happened to be Daryl. Carol could see the blood slowly dripping down his temple, and it looked that his side was probably hurt as well. She sucked in a gulp of air, trying to hold back her tears. Staying silent while Lori's voice echoed through her head, "What happened?!" Rick looked at her then at Carol, then behind them. Hershel. They needed Hershel. Carol turned on her heel and rushed towards the other end of the house. Finding him in the study, her hands went to her chest. "They need you. It's Daryl. Hurry!" She squeaked, eyes brimming with tears.

She felt a strong connection with the hunter, anyone could see that. After what he did to help her blessed daughter, Sophia... she was forever grateful to him. He was the only one who didn't give up hope, or even try and stop looking. She knew that the others were getting tired of looking. They gave up hope, and so did she in some way.. but Daryl. He never gave up, his hope never wavered. It was surprising for all of them to see him react so strongly to her little girl, but it warmed Carol's heart nonetheless. She sat outside the room where they took him, and asked Lori if she could please finish dinner. Finding herself going stir crazy waiting for him, she went after Lori. She was the only one who knew what Daryl ate, and didn't eat. While they were stitching him up, she would fix him a meal.

Doing what she did earlier with the meat before Daryl was hurt, she grabbed two patties and grilled them in a small pan. They were decently sized, which she supposed she shouldn't do, but he would need his strength after getting hurt. She nodded at Lori when she tried speaking calming words, but all Carol wanted to focus on was the food. If not, she might break down. She was fishing some beans out of a pot and putting them on a plate when Hershel came up behind her, hand on her shoulder. "Y-yes?" She asked, very hesitantly. "He's going to be just fine. He was only grazed by the bullet, and the wound in his side isn't very deep. The problem is... If we don't get him cleaned up soon, the dirt and grime will cause an infection." Carol's cheeks automatically went red, as she realized their request. She nodded slowly, and followed Hershel back towards the room. There was a sponge, and a pail of warm water sitting beside him. Rick clapped at her back, "We really appreciate this. I wouldn't want to know what he would do if he found out one of us did it," he nodded at himself, then Shane.

Not saying a word, Carol waited for them to leave the room. She took a deep breath, and let her hand itch at the back of her neck. She reminded herself that this was purely medical, and he needed it. That didn't do anything to calm her nerves. She thought of what Rick said, and she wondered if he would react any nicer to finding out that she did it. Taking a seat at the end of the bed, she slowly pulled the blanket down, revealing his chest, and torso. He still had his pants on, thank goodness or her cheeks would probably be on fire at this point. She reached for the sponge, while her other hand slowly rolled him onto his back. He was clearly out at this point. She wondered what medicine they gave him. His sleeping face was about as peaceful as she had ever seen him. She ran the sponge slowly along him, being careful of his wounds. She took note of the gnarly, raised scars all over his skin. She didn't know what they were from, but somehow, they broke her heart.

Her own hand went to her stomach, as she recalled the scars she had been granted during her marriage with Ed. They both had pain, and a tormented past. Once she was done cleaning him up, she slipped the blanket back over him and set the sponge in the now black water. Stepping outside of the room, she dumped the dirty water down the sink. About an hour later, she went back with the tray of food and a glass full of water. Not bothering knocking, she entered. The blanket was half on and half off of him, and her cheeks felt ablaze, once more. She set the tray down on the night stand next to him, "How are you feeling?" She asked, her sweet voice very quiet.


End file.
